


Tandem

by moscca



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bodyguard Kylo Ren, Emperor Hux, Established Relationship, M/M, Mindlinks, Post-Canon, dance lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6651391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moscca/pseuds/moscca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo had thought that by leaving his old life behind - the life of a senator’s son - he’d be able to escape attending these sorts of functions. It is now disappointingly evident that this is untrue, as he stares down at Hux’s extended hand, holding out an invitation to one such ridiculous occasion.<br/>“It’s addressed to you,” Kylo states shortly, hoping to wrangle his way out of this by any means necessary. The determined set of Hux’s jaw says otherwise.<br/>“It says ‘plus one guest’. That’s you, Kylo. This is going to be a massive event, a perfect opportunity for fundraising. And if you think I’m stepping into that den of snakes without my bodyguard by my side, you are sorely mistaken.”<br/>-<br/>Kylo is severely under-prepared for the upcoming Imperial ball. Hux teaches him a thing or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tandem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wall345](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wall345/gifts).



> Prompt: Hux teaches Kylo how to dance.

In Kylo’s opinion, emperors had better things to do than attend extravagant balls hosted by uppity Core World inhabitants who just so happened to be a major source of income for the First Order, and, by extension, the New Empire. He can’t recall a single instance of Emperor Palpatine being seen living it up with drunken aristocrats, though that’s probably a good thing. Kylo can, however, think of at least a dozen priorities that should come first in Emperor Hux’s mind - overseeing trade relations, suppressing the last few bastions of rebellion, and giving some much-needed attention to his loyal bodyguard and lover…

Kylo had thought that by leaving his old life behind - the life of a senator’s son - he’d be able to escape attending these sorts of functions. It is now disappointingly evident that this is untrue, as he stares down at Hux’s extended hand, holding out an invitation to one such ridiculous occasion.

“It’s addressed to you,” Kylo states shortly, hoping to wrangle his way out of this by any means necessary. The determined set of Hux’s jaw says otherwise.

“It says ‘plus one guest’. That’s you, Kylo. This is going to be a massive event, a perfect opportunity for fundraising. And if you think I’m stepping into that den of snakes without my bodyguard by my side, you are sorely mistaken.”

Kylo sighs dramatically and snatches the invitation out of Hux’s hand, stalking across their shared quarters to read it and find out exactly which power-hungry old family has sealed his fate. One perk of being the emperor’s bodyguard - their chambers are linked by a hidden door, ensuring he can protect Hux at whatever hour calls for it. It also ensures that he spends very little time in his own bed.

It’s House Vandron this time. Purveyors of agriculture and, as rumor has it, slaves. They’ve been working hard to establish themselves as legitimate supporters of the New Empire, though their involvement with the First Order had been minimal. Now, of course, they’ve seen how the tides have turned, and they’ve been quick to offer the services of their sizeable naval fleet for the glory of the Empire. House Vandron has an ancient and noble history that cannot be ignored, however, which means Hux can’t turn down this invitation without it being considered a great offense.

“We’ll have to have you fitted for some more appropriate clothes. You can’t be seen prowling about the party in those black robes of yours like some great bird of prey,” says Hux, with a dismissive wave of his hand towards said garments on Kylo’s body.

Kylo scowls. “I thought we were aiming for intimidation here.”

“Yes, but, as in all things, _moderation_. Come now, Kylo, be mature. We have to present a certain image, you and I, now that we’re in this position. It’s only one night.” He crosses his arms over his chest, awaiting Kylo’s surrender.

The jab at his maturity actually stings a bit. Hux has reminded Kylo all too frequently of the importance of suppressing his emotions - of appearing as merely a deadly vessel of Hux’s will. It does not come easily to Kylo, but Hux slips effortlessly into the guise of the efficient leader. Being emperor seems to be synonymous with hiding one’s true self behind a mask of cold power, though Kylo knows just how emotional Hux can be. The warmth of his anger, the dizzying depth of his passion - Kylo misses those things. He knows it weighs on Hux more than him, so he doesn’t begrudge Hux the things he must do to maintain power. In private, they can be themselves again, Kylo and the General he devoted himself to, and those are the moments he lives for.

“It won’t be just one night, though. I’ll have to appear at every damn function you go to, won’t I?”

Hux shuts his eyes and rubs at his temples, and Kylo instantly regrets having added to the pile of his stresses. “It’ll only be during these first few years that we have to establish ourselves. After that, you can fade into the background if you like. I know you’re unused this much human interaction, but just…tolerate this. And be tolerable. For me. Can you do that?”

Hux is uncannily good at talking Kylo down like this. Kylo supposes it’s from years of practice. He’s stood up to Hux before, argued his fair share, but this is one of those cases where it’s clearly better to just obey his emperor, to whatever end.

Kylo goes to Hux now, to take his pale face in his hands and lay a kiss on his forehead, to smooth out those lines of worry that crease it. The tension starts to seep out of Hux’s rigid frame when Kylo wraps his arms around him and pulls him in for a kiss. This is what makes it all worth it, these times when he can have Hux to himself and lay claim to what is his, when he can show the affection he must constantly withhold in public.

The kiss is ended all too soon when Hux pulls away, a thin smile on his face. “I’ll send a tailor to your room to take your measurements. Be a good boy and don’t fling them into the wall if they pick a style you’re not fond of. I’ve a meeting I’ll be late to in a few minutes.”

With one more quick peck, Hux is off, the poise of an emperor already settling into his tired shoulders. Kylo watches him go with no small amount of regret.

~

The tailor arrives in a few hours, doing her best not to quake in fear as she stands in Kylo Ren’s doorway, tape measure in hand. Kylo allows her in and submits himself to her sartorial inquisition, his mind still on Hux. He’d rather be with him right now, but he imagines Hux can only take so much constant accompaniment in a day before getting annoyed. As much as Kylo is concerned for his safety, Hux is most secure within the walls of this complex - technically an imperial palace, but it bears too many marks of military use to really appear as such. And though he hates to admit it, enduring the sort of meetings Hux attends near-hourly would probably drive him out of his mind.

Their current arrangement leaves Kylo with a fair amount of free time when Hux isn’t traveling. He usually takes the opportunity to train and meditate, and he’s never felt stronger with the Force, not even when he was under Snoke’s tutelage. It had taken Kylo a difficult few months to learn to function without his master, but Hux had been there at every moment, guiding him, teaching him, helping him become human again, increment by increment. Kylo has never forgotten this and considers himself eternally in Hux’s debt.

“E-Excuse me, Lord Ren?” Kylo is startled out his reverie and wonders how long the tailor has been standing before him, blinking owlishly behind her spectacles.

“What?” His voice comes out a bit startled, and the tailor cringes ever so slightly. Clearly his reputation as the Emperor’s vicious attack dog has traveled, though it is a hindrance when even the Imperial employees cower in his presence.

“I was saying that your dress robes will be completed within three days’ time, sir. As the Emperor’s guest, you’ll be dressed to match him, both in terms of colors and fabric choices. Is this acceptable to you?”

Kylo nods quickly and almost smiles, imagining what an odd couple he and Hux will make. Of course, it’s only customary that a bodyguard be dressed to complement the Emperor. It’s certainly not meant to be romantic. And yet…

“Thank you,” he replies, inclining his head slightly, and the tailor brightens.

“It’s an honor, Lord Ren. My team will put forth our best effort!”

She trots out, already sketching something on a notepad. Kylo cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of it and fails. It’ll be a surprise, then. He’s not terribly fond of those.

Kylo spends the remainder of the evening in his private training room (another job perk: the fact that he even has a private training room in the first place) and staving off his hunger in hopes that Hux will return and they can have dinner together. The weapons katas do an excellent job of clearing his mind and distracting him from the anxiety he feels over the ball, which is still almost a week away. This is a familiar feeling for Kylo that crops up nearly every time he’s forced to play the role of someone familiar with regular human interaction. It’s why he relies on Hux so frequently to be an interpreter of sorts, to tell him what is acceptable and unacceptable, what he can say and what he can’t.

It’s frustrating to feel as though he’s constantly catching up, always a step behind his refined and outwardly perfect partner. But Hux has been patient with him, once he came to understand that Kylo had spent two-thirds of his life under the thumb of a Sith lord who had, for all intents and purposes, forbidden contact with the outside world. Kylo still fears that Hux’s affection will one day turn to pity, so he strives to make himself irreplaceable in his emperor’s world.

At 21:00 standard time (he thinks in military time now - Hux’s effect on him), he gives up and orders a meal to be brought to his quarters. Whatever Hux has been busy with, it’s clearly dragging on longer than it should, and Kylo feels an irrational flash of anger at whoever or whatever is wasting his lover’s time. He forces it down, as he does with most of his anger these days, only tapping into it when he communes with the Dark Side in times of need. After washing up in the ‘fresher (actual water these days, not the sonic he’d been accustomed to), he collapses in Hux’s luxurious bed, taking a small pleasure in the fact that Hux will have to curl himself around Kylo’s form for the bed to fit the both of them.

Sleep comes quickly. He doesn’t know how much time passes before he wakes slowly to a sliver of light piercing the room. A faint voice - _Hux,_ he thinks, a warm feeling growing in his chest - murmurs from the doorway, and then the light is gone again, and there are footsteps in the room. Kylo smiles against the pillow.

He catches the domestic sounds of Hux efficiently washing up, followed the soft pad of his feet toward the bed. Kylo waits for him to speak, to vent about his day as he usually does in the privacy of their chambers. Kylo is a sympathetic listener, familiar as he is with the stresses of regular human interaction, and he prepares himself for a litany of complaints. The only thing that comes is a gentle ruffle of his hair under Hux’s hand. Hux slips under the covers, rolls over, and falls almost instantly asleep, leaving Kylo awake and alone in the dark.

~

The next day, Hux rises before him and sets off to another meeting, though gratefully it’s a short one this time. He returns just as Kylo digs moodily into his breakfast and joins him at the table, already flicking through updates on his holopad.

“Today’s schedule isn’t too hectic, for once,” Hux remarks vaguely. Kylo finds himself wishing Hux would lean over and steal a slice of toast from his plate, just for the intimacy of the gesture, but Hux has probably already eaten something.

“That’s good,” Kylo hums, downing another sip of caf. “What do you have planned?”

“We need to start getting you ready for your first social appearance,” says Hux, and Kylo’s heart sinks. “There’s just some basic etiquette to go over, a bit of background to review on the other attendees. And of course, the dancing.”

Kylo nearly chokes on a mouthful of buttered toast. “ _What?_ ”

Hux looks up from his holopad, an expression of mild consternation on his face. “You heard me. This is a formal ball, after all. Weren’t you fitted for your dress robes yesterday?”

Kylo dabs specks of bread from around his mouth, trying not to laugh and possibly invite another choking fit. “I’m your bodyguard, Hux. _The emperor’s vicious hound_ \- that’s what they call me. Exactly who do you think is going to step right up and ask me to _dance_?”

“As long as you’re at this function, the possibility remains, and I need you to be prepared for that. It wouldn’t do to insult some dignitary by refusing a dance. It’s just how these things are done, Kylo.” His voice has taken on that disappointed-authority -figure tone that Kylo loathes so much. He considers arguing the point but ends up deferring to Hux anyway. It’s better like this - to do as he says and not make him wonder why he keeps Kylo around.

“Fine, then. Where do I have to go to get these dance lessons?”

Hux smiles, then- a true smile, not the tight-lipped sort he reserves for public events and inefficient bureaucrats. “You don’t have to go anywhere. I’ll be teaching you.”

Kylo is glad to not have been drinking anything at the moment. “You?”

“Yes, Kylo, _me_. I told you, my schedule is fairly open today, and I don’t think you’d take too kindly to someone else touching you like that. Besides, I know best how you learn,” Hux replies sagely.

Kylo is reminded, with a pang of guilt, of Hux patiently instructing him on the most elementary of things, from the history of the Outer Rim (which Snoke had neglected to touch upon) to cooking for himself. His memories from the earliest days after Snoke’s death are muddled to the point of incomprehensibility; it was only Hux’s orders to eat, sleep, rise, bathe, that kept him in a state resembling life. Kylo wonders, not for the first time, if Snoke had vindictively torn out some part of his mind in the moments before his death, just to ensure his last pupil would never be able to function without him. Obviously he’d underestimated Hux’s capabilities.

“I’m surprised you don’t already know how to dance, really,” says Hux off-handedly. “Didn’t you attend these sorts of events with your mother from time to time?”

Kylo grimaces, filling his mouth with a forkful of egg to avoid answering immediately. “I was only ten when she sent me away to Skywalker. There weren’t many fancy fundraising galas where a ten-year-old would be invited. Besides, she...she mostly kept me away from that side of Republic life. And it’s not as though Snoke ever foresaw a future like this for me when he became my master.”

Hux falls silent, and Kylo can sense tinges of guilt and regret on the outer edges of his consciousness. He tries not to read Hux’s mind frequently these days; it’s a terrible temptation, but the rush of accomplishment that comes with correctly guessing Hux’s state of mind without cheating makes it worthwhile. Kylo sees his connection with Hux as something that he must build upon without the help of the Force.

With a scrape, Hux pushes his chair away from the table and stands. “Go ahead and get dressed, then. I’ll be waiting in the living room.” As soon as he leaves the room, Kylo sighs and gulps down the rest of his caf. He washes his dishes in the sink, a force of habit, though they’ve got droids to do most every menial task for them now, and heads to change out of his sleep clothes through the hidden door behind one of Hux’s many bookshelves (one of his few indulgences).

~

There’s music playing in the room when he rejoins Hux, high and floaty, giving off a distinct air of elegance and class - or at least the things Kylo associates with them. Hux is fiddling with the audio projector and turns when he hears Kylo approach.

“I think we can get away with only teaching you one sort of dance. They never get too creative at these functions, with the emphasis on tradition and all.”

“Will they play this song?” Kylo asks, unsure as to how these things proceed. Are there different dances for different songs? That sounds completely maddening.

“Most likely not this exact one, but maybe something like it. A similar style, perhaps.” Hux steps closer.

“We’ll start with the first position.” He places his left hand on Kylo’s shoulder, taking his right one and holding it aloft and out from their bodies. “Rest your free hand on my waist.” Kylo complies, thrilling in his closeness to Hux. Perhaps he’ll actually enjoy this.

“Your left foot moves back on the first count- you hear the counts in the music, right? One, two, three, one, two, three. It’s a repeating pattern. All you have to do is follow it and stay on the beats.”

“It won’t change up mid-way through the song?”

“Most likely not,” Hux replies. Kylo would strongly prefer a definitive answer on that one, but he’ll take what he can get.

Things get more complicated after that.

“Your _left_ foot- yes, that one- moves back on the second count.”

“But yours doesn’t, it stays there-“

“Because our moves aren’t the same, Kylo, you have to mirror me. Flip the image in your head.”

“Alright, alright, I’ve got it. Next step.” The music carries on, carefree and oblivious to the ongoing struggle in the middle of the room. Their poses are locked awkwardly in place as Hux explains the next move, and Kylo reflects for a moment that this feels more like a stilted form of sparring than dancing.

“Have you got it?” Hux demands, peering up into Kylo’s face, and Kylo realizes he’s missed the instructions entirely. Hux doesn’t have to know that, though, so he nods and tries to keep a straight face. This façade falls apart completely when he botches the next step by moving in the exact opposite direction.

Hux rolls his eyes. “I assume you need me to repeat myself?” Kylo nods sheepishly.

Their next attempt goes better, and Kylo’s just starting to feel better about this when Hux proclaims that it’s time to move on to a more complex move, “because you can’t just do the same three steps over and over again.”

“I can’t?”

“No. Now listen up; this might get tricky.”

It does, in fact, get tricky. It gets beyond tricky, as Hux introduces some sort of twisting maneuver that ends with him at the end of Kylo’s arm, almost out of reach. Kylo tries to study what happens in between, but it’s not like fighting, where he can instantly detect the purpose of each form and apply it to himself. There seems to be no end goal to any of these steps.

He tries it, again and again, and manages to grab the right hand about half of the time - which would have been acceptable, if grabbing the wrong hand didn’t result in hyperextending Hux’s arm.

“Ow,” Hux mutters after yet another failed attempt.

“Can we try something else?” asks Kylo, desperate to end this embarrassment sooner rather than later.

“I suppose we can save that one for later…”

An hour passes in this manner. Kylo becomes passably proficient at the twisting move, along with another one where he holds Hux to his side and dips him. That one is enjoyable, he supposes. The rest, less so. He doesn’t see the point of putting space between one and one’s partner only to reel them back in on the next count. Choose one position and stay with it, that’s the way to go. And the ones that involve some complicated interchange of hands- impossible.

It’s humiliating, not being able to grasp this quickly and make Hux proud. As the master of the Knights of Ren, he’s learned countless katas, likely hundreds, and knows how to defend himself against nearly any attack imaginable, even bare-handed. Yet when it comes to staying on beat and not tripping over himself or Hux, all the while attempting to keep Hux’s instructions in his head, Kylo becomes overwhelmed and, inevitably, fails. His frustration grows, in wave after wave.

At last Hux steps away to switch off the music, and Kylo breathes a sigh of relief.

“That’s enough for today. I suppose we’ll have to keep trying.” The low thrum of some stringed instrument cuts off abruptly. Kylo can scarcely bring himself to meet Hux’s eyes again, ashamed as he is. Hux had been so graceful the whole time, light on his feet and perfectly attuned to the music, as if he’d been born already moving in time with it. What a sight Kylo will be beside him. The contrast they’ll make.

“Will you help me again tomorrow?” he hears himself ask, always in need of Hux’s assistance in the most basic of functions.

“Yes, I’ll come back to the room between meetings to work with you. Don’t worry too much; we still have time before the ball to teach you.”

“I’ll do better next time,” he promises.

“I’m sure you will,” Hux replies, disaffected, moving to check his datapad for missed messages. Kylo is left in the middle of the room, fists clenched by his sides, certain that Hux does not believe his own words.

~

The next few days pass all too quickly. In between his usual Imperial duties and preparing for the Vandron ball, Hux sets aside time to work on Kylo’s dance form, which sees (in Kylo’s opinion) little improvement. He continues to trip over his large and clumsy feet and nearly brings Hux down with him a few times. Nearly every session ends in frustration, and Kylo can tell it’s starting to get to Hux. Miserably, he practices in his own chambers, determined not to embarrass Hux in front of his subjects. He attempts, again and again, to envision the moves like the steps of a kata, but they’re too new, too foreign, and more often than not he ends up cross-legged on the floor of his room, breathing deeply and trying not to take out his anger on the innocent furniture around him.

The day before they depart for the Vandrons’ home planet, Kylo enters his bedroom to find Hux already there, inspecting some outfit laid out upon the bed. It’s a maroon tunic with the First Order emblem embroidered in gold ( _gaudy_ , he finds himself thinking), with a silky sash about the waist, matching pants and- dress shoes?

“It’s a shame they didn’t let us stick with the traditional black and red,” says Hux by way of greeting, sounding truly regretful. “Said it was too ‘military’ for the occasion. Supposedly everyone’s going to be at least as colorful as we are.” He turns to Kylo, hands clasped behind his back. “Go ahead. Try it on.” Hux’s corresponding outfit is nowhere in sight; he’s wearing his sleek grey-black daily robes instead, a design that closely resembles his General’s uniform.

Cautiously, Kylo approaches, eyeing Hux, who only nods at the outfit on the bed. Hux politely averts his eyes as Kylo undresses, as though there’s anything there that he hasn’t seen before. The clothing is luxurious and most likely more expensive than anything Kylo has ever had on his body before. Between his fingers, the fabric is soft and thick. And yet, he’d do anything to be back in his regular black robes.

When Kylo clears his throat self-consciously, Hux turns back around and gives an approving once-over. “Very nice. You clean up well,” he notes jokingly. Kylo’s face flushes. He can’t imagine how he’s going to pass as a regular party-goer; the scar across his face screams _dangerous_ to anyone apart from Hux and makes it rather difficult to blend in.

“Shall we practice once more before we leave?” Hux walks to the center of the room, where they won’t knock into any furniture, and waits. Kylo suppresses a groan and grudgingly goes to join him.

A look of concern crosses over Hux’s face. “Are you quite all right, Kylo? You’ve been out of sorts for days. Is there something I need to know?” Most things that Hux needs to know are things that he’s capable of finding out for himself, and this is no exception. He’s giving Kylo the chance to trust him by confiding in him. Kylo nearly tells Hux what’s been on his mind but stops short, reminding himself of how much pressure Hux is under already, and how little he needs to hear about any additional grievances from his bodyguard.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, trying to keep his face neutral, which is difficult these days, without the mask as a crutch. “Let’s try this again.”

Hux rests a gloved hand at the junction of his neck and shoulder as he takes Hux’s waist, and they begin again.

Kylo does his best to keep up, but he’s always had difficulty concentrating on more than one thing at a time. He’d love to be able to look at Hux, to stare into his eyes like the people in romantic holofilms do, but he’s too busy trying to anticipate what piece of footwork comes next in the dance. When Hux instructs him to keep his chin up and not stare at his feet, he trips over them almost instantaneously, cursing himself inwardly as he recovers. Kylo’s breathing starts to quicken in what he knows is the beginnings of rising frustration.

“Relax, Kylo. Just focus on me,” says Hux, as though this were the easiest thing in the world. He counts the beats under his breath, _one-two-three, one-two-three_. When Hux spins out from him in a complex move, Kylo grabs the wrong hand to take him back by, which brings the dance to a crashing halt. Immediately, the old anger is there, tight in his throat, rushing in his ears, proof of what a failure he is at the most simple of tasks. He releases Hux and turns away with a choked noise, hiding his face in one hand. This is it- Hux will now realize the stupidity of keeping Kylo around when he could have had some graceful consort all this time, someone who would laugh at the appropriate times and use the right cutlery and not trip over their untrained feet. Someone who looks good in regal colors, who can show their face without fear, someone Hux could marry without incurring the scorn of the galaxy-

“I’m sorry,” he manages. It comes out muffled through his palm. He doesn’t want Hux to see him like this; he can already feel the irritation rippling off him.

“Kylo, just calm down and try it again. You still have a day before we have to leave.”

“I can’t,” he says unhappily, shaking his head. “Hux, I can’t do it. Please, take someone else instead of me.”

If eye-rolls were audible, Kylo would be able to hear Hux’s right about now. “Who else would I take? Do you really think I’m going to an event like this, crawling with power-hungry, opportunistic dignitaries, without my bodyguard?”

Kylo sinks down onto the chaise at the foot of his bed. Maybe Hux will grow tired of his immaturity and leave now. It would almost be a blessing.

“Kylo, what is going on?” There’s definitely irritation there, bordering on anger. Kylo removes his hands from his face but can’t bring himself to meet Hux’s gaze, not yet. He’s always found eye contact to be a challenge, more so in circumstances like these, and so he stares down at the cuffs of his silken sleeves.

“You shouldn’t have to do this for me,” he murmurs.

“I shouldn’t have to do what?”

“Everything that you’ve done, everything you’ve had to do, to normalize me, to put me back together again after Snoke was killed. I know it’s difficult for you, and you have your own responsibilities as Emperor.” Kylo looks up at Hux, wanting him to feel the sincerity of this statement. “I never meant to put all this on you, and I’m sorry.”

He looks down again, trying to piece together what he wants to say next. His thoughts run in fragments so frequently that his sentences often come out that way, too.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hux sniffs. “You’re not forcing me to do anything I don’t want to do. You’ve more than fulfilled any debt you might have felt you had to me, now that you’re serving as my bodyguard.” He pauses, evaluating. “This isn’t really about the dancing, is it?”

Kylo shakes his head, dark curls bouncing about his face. The chaise shifts and creaks as Hux sits down next to him.

“You’ve done so much for me. Sacrificed so much, just to be with me,” Kylo chokes out. “But you’re the Emperor now. You have a new role to play. And I don’t know if I’m compatible with that role anymore.”

Hux is silent beside him for seconds that seem to stretch on forever.

“Compatible,” he finally says, enunciating the word as if he’s hearing it for the first time.

“I only mean that…there are expectations of you. As Emperor. That you’ll have an Imperial Consort, someone who knows the ways of the people you govern. That you’ll marry, and produce an heir to the throne. And I can’t do those things for you. I’d die for you, Hux, but I won’t burden you with myself.” His voice comes out rough, his words wrenched from his throat.

There is suddenly a hand on his jaw where it was not before, and Hux is wrenching his face around to meet his gaze, green eyes alight with a strange anger.

“Don’t you dare say that. Do not refer to yourself as a burden. That’s Snoke talking, Kylo. That’s the years of doubt he instilled in you.” Hux is practically shaking him now, still clutching him tight. “I am not going to throw this away, no matter how convinced you are of your own inadequacy. If it means I have to tell you every hour of every day that I still want you, I’ll do it. How could you think I’d tolerate anyone else by my side?”

Stunned, Kylo can only stare as Hux continues on his tirade.

“I know I’ve been away, and maybe that was my mistake. I thought you might need time apart from me, considering how unused you were to frequent company. And this whole ball business- I couldn’t care less about it, Kylo. You’re right, I do have certain responsibilities, and making public appearances is one of them, but I thought it might all be more bearable with you as my guest.”

“And the dancing?” Kylo asks, because he is clearly unable to manage anything smarter than that.

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I thought it would be romantic,” Hux replies, pallid cheeks coloring ever so slightly. “I don’t blame you if you don’t want any part of it, though. Just tell me next time, instead of forcing yourself through.”

“I want to try it again,” Kylo blurts out.

Hux sputters. “Are you serious? After all that?”

Kylo nods furiously. “I have an idea.”

“I- alright, then.” Kylo rises quickly, taking Hux by the wrist and pulling him back to the center of the room. He’s giddy, high on Hux’s confession, the confirmation he needed all this time. He wants to make this right, to prove his capability to Hux and strengthen their bond.

They reposition themselves, free hands clasped and held aloft, bodies aligned close enough to feel the warmth of each other.

“So what’s your idea?”

Kylo closes his eyes and lowers his forehead to Hux’s, bumping gently against him. “Let me into your mind.”

“I should’ve known,” Hux sighs, but there’s no malice in it.

“No, really, I think it might help my understanding of this if I can see it from your perspective. Just let me in and start the routine like you always do.”

He waits until he can feel Hux’s nod of consent, then pushes into Hux’s mind, finding no resistance. His thoughts are so calm, so ordered. He’s awash in a sea of them, pulled and pushed by the tow.

“ _One, two, three, one, two, three_ ,” and they’re moving again, into the familiar first steps, starting off slow without the music this time. This time Kylo senses the pattern from Hux’s own understanding of the dance and knows instinctively which steps to anticipate, how next to move in relation to Hux. He sees himself through Hux’s eyes, tinted with the possessiveness, the pride Hux feels as he gazes on. Hux visualizes each step in crystal-clear detail, and Kylo follows his lead. Just like this, floating in his mind, they glide together over the floor.

 _Good, Kylo, very good._ The praise overwhelms him so much that he missteps on the next move, but Hux is there to sweep him back into the flow, close in both body and mind. Kylo’s eyes are still closed; there’s no need to look down at his feet anymore, nor to even watch Hux’s face to read his expression. Kylo experiences every thought, every stray emotion, along with and in tandem with him, and it is glorious, to be at last united in the way he’s always wanted. They form a stronger front when combined; that has always been the case, and Kylo knows now it’s the reason Snoke wanted them separated. How powerful they are, together.

And then his feet settle into the final steps, the same position for starting and ending, and it’s over, just like that. Kylo finds he’s breathing hard.

Their foreheads are still pressed together, and it takes only a small movement to make their lips meet.

Hux’s arms are warm around him when he speaks against Kylo’s mouth.

“We’ll take that party by storm, you and I. They’ll never see it coming.”

Kylo laughs and laughs, full of affection, as he presses kiss after kiss to the crown of Hux’s head.

“Though perhaps we should introduce you by a different title, if we’re to establish your legitimacy as future spouse of the Emperor. How does Crown Prince of Alderaan sound?”

His words land on Kylo’s ears like small bombs. Kylo pulls back to study Hux’s expression, to see if he’s joking, yet he appears completely serious.

“Do you mean that?”

“Absolutely. Perhaps I should have made my intentions clearer to you. Are you…amenable to that?”

“Yes,” says Kylo before Hux has even finished his sentence. “Though we should wait until after this event. I think the Imperial organizers have enough on their hands without an impromptu engagement.”

Hux tips his head back and laughs at that. “Yes, of course, how inconsiderate of me. We’ll be sure to give them proper warning.”

As they glide across the tiled floor, in short turns and curving ellipses, Hux hums a three-count tune into Kylo’s ear, and it’s more beautiful than any orchestra in the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up at my writing blog (moscca on tumblr) or my main (giantsquidkid) to talk Kylux or pretty much anything!


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